Tales from the Inquisition
by manicpixienerdgirl
Summary: A growing collection of short stories about Inquisitor Kesa Trevelyan, a noble human mage, and her time before becoming the Inquisitor, from the Circle at Ostwick to the rise of the Inquisition at Haven.
1. The Hours Before the Breach Closed

The snow of Haven fluttered down, laying heavy on the stone heights of the chapel. Kesa Trevelyan tightened her coat, pulling it close into the breastplate of her leather armor, staring outward at the mountains as they grew blurry through the downfall. The mages had arrived only a few hours past, and hung around tables, gorging themselves with food in preparation for closing the Breach. Despite not looking at it, Kesa could see the glittering green reflection of the Breach bouncing off the white landscape.

"You know, if anyone should be eating right now, it's you," Varric Tethras called, taking a few more lumbering steps forward before leaning before Kesa on the stone wall, a bowl of food in his hand and a flask in the other.

"I'm not hungry." Varric looked passed her at the chapel, where Cullen and Cassandra leaned not so subtly against the wall, Leliana lingering about the way she did a few steps away, pretending to be looking at some papers.

"Maybe not, but you could at least try to eat something, for the sake of morale and all," he said, offering out the bowl of food. Kesa shot it a glance. "It's the little things," he added. She sighed, reaching a gloved hand from her cloak and grabbing the bowl.

"I don't know why they care," she said, twirling the spoon in the bowl.

"Believe it or not, Frosty, they have gotten a bit attached to you. We all have. And seeing as no one has any power in this whole mess right now except you and a bunch of apostates, a whole lot of people who like doing things have nothing to do right now but think." He popped the flask, shrugging. "And we all know how that goes." He took a long swallow, a bit spilling from the corners of his mouth and onto the edges of his growing bear. He offered it out. "This is the good stuff, I got it smuggled in from…well from a friend who I probably shouldn't name. Stolen off one of those fancy Orlesian carts going to a Carta base. Thugs wouldn't have appreciated it." Kesa didn't hesitate to take it, leaning the lip back and taking a long sip.

She coughed a bit, handing it back. "I haven't tasted anything that potent since my last visit home." Varric watched as she took a small bite, attempting a subtle thumb up by his side. "The letters my parents keep sending to Josephine are the most I've heard from them since joining the Circle. Except for a few stray holidays, I haven't really been home since I was seven. I can barely even remember their faces," she took another bite, staring out at the storm growing in the distance.

"After all this, you could probably go back home," Varric pointed out.

"For over fifteen years my home was in that Tower. Since it crumbled down, quite literally, well…I suppose I don't have anywhere that I want to really go anymore." Varric held up his flask.

"To the eternally wandering," he said. Kesa laughed slightly, tapping her bowl into it. "It's as good a thing to be as any," he added, before chugging down the rest of his drink. "I think I will go get a beer." Varric smacked Kesa on the arm, laughing slightly before walking off, Bianca swinging on his back. Kesa put the bowl down. Within an hour they would be back at the foot of the Breach. Her instructors always told her she was powerful, more so then most of the mages these days, that her connection with the Fade was strong. She had learned how to control it, mastered all the spells, taught herself discipline, ignored the whispers of demons always trying to find their way in somehow, but she had never felt this afraid and out of control. Mages must always be in control.

Nothing felt in control anymore.

She turned, walking past the midday lunch and into the chapel. Luckily her watchers had moved on to keep their eyes on the mages, whom none of them seemed to reach trust, not even Dorian. Inside it was cool and musky, a hue of candlelight fluttering on the walls. A few of the Mothers were together in a circle, along with the Templars who had all sat down in prayer. They were used to be outnumbered by mages, but it was something new to be surrounded by apostates, unknown in their skill and strength. With the lyrium supply in Haven ever dwindling, Kesa had to admit that the Templars were making her uneasy, with their twitching and shifty eyes. One year at the Circle, when the Templars had been unable to get lyrium for too long, the Enchanters had locked away all the students. For three days they stood at the helm of the dormitory doors, barred and always guarded, until finally the noises outside of raving anger stopped. Then the Circle had simply gone on like it was all normal, but she hadn't gotten those noises they made, like men on fire.

Despite her minimal faith, Kesa found the chantry to be settling. She walked into a backroom, falling down into a chair and leaning her head back. Pressing her hands together she began to draw fire, the ball in her hand growing as she moved her fingers and palms, contained between her hands, the mark glowing a light green beneath her skin. The fire vanished and she clenched her hands in a fist.

"What is it like?" Kesa jumped slightly, looking up at the door. Commander Cullen stood there, one hand on his sword. She noticed the slight tension in his fingers. Templar training held strong. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you. I just realized that all the years I spent, watching mages, standing guard in the circles, I don't believe I ever asked anyone what it felt like. Magic." He shuffled his feet, suddenly looking obviously uncomfortable. Kesa could imagine him, years younger, dressed in his uniform, standing watching in the halls, like so many others looking for a purpose in a world where the largest thing to fear was magic.

"I suppose it feels a lot like not having magic. I couldn't honestly tell you one from the other. It doesn't feel like anything. It just…is there." He paced forward, settling into an opposite chair. "It's a lot like a feeling in your chest, that you are trying to ignore, just waiting there until you finally acknowledge it. At least when your young, much like learning to use a sword, after all those years it fits in your hand so naturally you forget how your hands worked without it," Kesa said. Cullen looked down at his fingers, grasped so naturally around the pommel of his weapon.

"No one ever describes it like that. It's always painted as a constant struggle, like demons claw at your head everywhere you go, and you never really can be free of it. Anyone can turn at any moment, become an abomination. Yet I can't imagine you," he stammered, pushing a hand through his hair, "or Solas, even Dorian, doing such a thing."

"It is easy to train a generation of mages to become abominations when they are constantly told how easy it can happen. I was lucky enough to have teachers who instilled strength and control, over being constantly afraid," Kesa said, leaning back in her chair, the nearby fire warming her cheeks. "When the world tells you that you're a monster, a lot of people see the easiest solution being to become one. Once you open that door, demons happily walk in." The two sat in silence for a while, both lost in a rather brutal array of memories, until Kesa stood up. She walked across the room to one of the weapons racks that seemed to be anywhere they would fit these days, lifting up a longsword between her fingers. She spun it a few times before resting it comfortably in her palm. "Before I joined was sent to the Circle, my father tried to train me in sword fighting. I was never good, I was a rather spindly child and my brothers liked to sabotage me. They didn't like that he favored training me over them." She swung the sword a few times, swift and fast, stopping to point the tip into the stone.

"You seem quite adept at it now," Cullen said, standing up and walking a few steps closer. She turned, raising the weapon to tap the plate on his chest.

"A Templar taught me," she said, dropping it back down to her side. "My father was quick to be disappointed in me once he learned I had magic. He saw no value in it. Where he could often overlook I was a girl, he simply couldn't see past me being a mage. They didn't try to hide it, like most parents do. They called the Circle and I was moved within a week. I thought the best way to earn back his favor would be to learn all the things he had tried to teach me and surprise him, whenever I next went home. I eventually bribed a Templar trainee to teach me how to use a sword after hours," she smiled slightly, almost unnoticeable in the candlelight. "You remind me a bit of him actually."

"It may surprise you, but I never broke a single rule when I was still in the Order," Cullen said, laughing slightly. "To look at me now, the Commander of a force called rebels, a deserter of the faith, it is hard to think I was the rule bound Templar I once was."

"Well, Commander, it will surprise you then to know I was actually talking about your eyes," Kesa said, smiling. "And that sly look you get when you win and knew you would all along." He blinked a few times, a little thrown back by the compliment. Kesa couldn't help but feel a little smug at knocking him off his feet. She wondered the last time he had even been flirted with. Handsome as he was, it seemed unlikely he had a past filled with adoring women.

"Oh," was all Cullen managed to say, scratching at his short blonde hair.

Kesa swung the weapon again, making a few moves with her feet as she struck out at an imaginary foe. "I refused to use the spells the other students did to make themselves better with weapons, but eventually I could hold my own against most of the guards. It wasn't for eight years after I was sent away that I was given leave to see my family. I had watched my friends be sent home over and over again, their parents paying bribes, guards and whatever else for holidays. But mine didn't, not until my grandmother visited from Orlais before my sixteenth birthday. So I went home, and I proved to my father that I had learned how to use a sword." She sighed, placing it back onto the rack. "He accused me to using my magic to cheat. I was sent home four days early. After that only my youngest siblings sent letters. I hadn't heard from my parents until the letter they sent Josephine. Politicians to the very end, never afraid to seize whatever they can. I still despise politics, playing through life like someone is always going to stab you in the back, and like the only things worth having must be negotiated and manipulated."

"Even though it is unsavory, at least in war, you always know who your enemy is." Outside a bell began to chime, echoing through the halls of the chantry as it beat like wings, repeating through the air.

"It seems the hour of our fate is upon us," Kesa said, as the last chime rung out. "May the Maker be with us." She started towards the door but Cullen reached out, wrapping his fingers around her upper arm.

"The Breach must be closed, but we, the Inquisition, still needs you. Be careful. If we must clean ourselves up and fight another day, we can." Kesa swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and nodded her head. He squeezed her arm before letting go, and watched as the Herald of Andraste walked out of the room to face whatever fate waited at the foot of the Breach.


	2. Haven Falls

The snow as so heavy it stuck onto her very eyelashes, leaving trails like needles dripping down her face. Kesa Trevelyan shuddered where she sat, shaded from the raging storm just barely by a line of trees. She exhaled, drawing in her focus. For a moment, fire flared from between her palms, a rush of warms going through her body in the moment before it faded, a dull green glowing from her palm to replace it. She hissed, leaning forward at the stabbing pain her hand and the shattering weakness in her body.

In the distance it sounded like noise, growing like voices somewhere behind the wall of whiteness. Rising, Kesa continued to walk, dragging her boots through the ice as she continued uphill, following the most logical escape path and whatever it was her ears claimed to hear.

She collapsed by an opening in the higher peaks, falling down against the stone. As her eyes closed she was certain she heard voices, and felt them touch her and begin to move her as she drifted asleep.

 _"_ _There is no escape, here. I smell it, your fear, drip, drip, dripping."_

 _Kesa felt the eyes, lines of them as they stared at her, laughing as they blinked and watched._

 _"_ _Give into it, give me the strength, let out your fear."_

She thrashed wild enough to almost toss herself right off the cot. Mother Giselle grabbed her arm as Solas stepped back, a look of mild concern on his face as the Mother adjusted the sleeping woman, exhaling sharply as she went back to mumbling, sweat on her face. She used a cloth to wipe it off, glancing out across the fire where their leaders stood. Josephine, holding onto a her fine cloak, face drawn with stern anger. Leliana paced, staring out across the horizon as she often did, as if looking for some kind of secret. Cassandra threw twigs into the fire, burning almost as hot as the flame, well the Commander stared across the fire, a tense look of panic on his face.

"You'd think we lost or something," Varric said, Bianca across his lap as he sat in the corner. "Oh wait, we did." He looked down in the light of the tent as Kesa twitched again, her lips moving in her sleep.

"Today many fell in this battle. We did not win this fight, but the war can continue. We did not lose as much as our enemy had hoped," Mother Giselle replied. Varric grunted, he had grown rather tired with all this hope and such around him. After his time beside Hawke, watching just what exactly happened to heroes these days, the whole cheery attitude had grown to irritate him. Every battle seemed to just open up the chance for an even shittier one, with an even worse enemy, and even harsher consequences. And here he was once again, stuck in the middle, friends with someone raising themselves up right in the center of insanity. He wanted to blame Cassandra, after all she had kidnapped him and dragged him along, but it was his own crazy that had kept him here. Or maybe it was guilt, for dragging that damn idol out of the Deep Roads in the first place.

"The wards should begin to work soon. She should be awake within the hour, and back to herself soon after that," Solas stated with his usual level of disinterest. He stood for a moment longer, before nodding to himself and walking off, disappearing into the shadows of the small makeshift camp. The snow continued to fall, making his footsteps vanish. Varric wondered sometimes if the odd old elf even made footsteps.

"It's always a damn dragon." Varric spun one of his crossbow bolts around. He missed the old days, when all his enemies were angry Carta rogues, instead of blood mages, abominations, red lyrium monsters…and of course dragons. He was even beginning to miss gunlocks, who seemed rather boring and ordinary these days. "A dragon. Maker help us all," Varric grumbled.

"Has he not already?" Mother Giselle smoothed the blankets where they clung close to Kesa's neck. She shook slightly, her body still recovering from the cold, but she had grown calmer. "Our hero rose again." Varric laughed, a bit bitterly as he got out of the chair.

"Trevelyan just has a great combination of skill, luck and insanity, Mother. I don't think the Maker had anything to do with this one." He walked out of the tent, shaking his head as he also faded into the distance. Across the fire hushed whispers had grown, voices rising to a near yell. All of them, blaming the other, frantically searching for some kind of reasoning.

"Where are we?" Mother Giselle looked back down as Kesa exhaled, blinking her eyes a few times and glancing around.

"The mountains, Herald." She pulled the blankets close.

"How is there even any snow left?" Kesa mumbled, causing Mother Giselle to laugh slightly.

"I see you have kept your sarcasm, Herald." Kesa rubbed her face, pushing back soggy blonde hair. It had melted off layers of ice, dripping itself onto the towels piled beneath her head. "How are you feeling?"

Kesa sat up, rubbing at her neck as she rung out her hair. "Like I got backhanded by an archdemon," she replied, wincing as she rolled out her shoulder. Her head was throbbing from having drained so much magic, a feeling she hadn't had since her early days at the Circle, and her whole body tingled as her temperature rose.

"You are miraculously unharmed. Nothing but a few cuts and bruises." Kesa stared down at her hand, the anchor glimmering beneath her skin. It hurt burned, her whole wrist and arm ringing with pain, like someone had tried to yank out her skeletal structure. Across the camp, voices continued to rise. She looked up, glaring as her advisors stood in a circle, arms and mouths blaring. "But you should continue to rest. You can worry about them later," Mother Giselle stood up, tsking her tongue as she pushed Kesa back down, having changed the towels behind her head.

Kesa rolled onto her side as the Mother walked off, shushing the group and sending them off in different directions.

Where only hours before she had a sense of dread that the end was close, and whatever came with it, now a new fear filled her. They had just touched the beginning of a war no one had imagined or prepared for, and she had accidently stumbled into the front of it. And still had no damn idea how.


End file.
